


a question of lust

by frostmantle



Series: if you want my love [1]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Dubious Consent, F/M, Patch 2.0: A Realm Reborn Spoilers, also i suck at tags whee, but this is 1000 percent hatesex tbh, featured: Nero being a jackass, kind of, my porn is terrible, quick and dirty smut, sometimes the WoL is bad decision bear, this would be one of those times
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-26
Updated: 2018-11-26
Packaged: 2019-08-29 16:55:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16747891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frostmantle/pseuds/frostmantle
Summary: Taking out your frustrations with each other, *on* each other. You know, like you do.





	a question of lust

**Author's Note:**

> Stupid sexy Garleans.
> 
> Don't look too hard for a plot, this is just a hastily written story about messy decisions, messy sex, and especially messy humans. 
> 
> Basically we're all just a big mess here okay

"What in the seven hells is he even *doing* here?"

"Chief, calm down, for the Twelve's sake! You're going to wear a rut into the floor," Jessie snapped, peeking her head over the chassis of the reaper she was modifying. "Biggs, hand me that wrench---no, not the #2, the #5."

The weather had turned foul near the lake in the afternoon, the aether storms that had plagued the area ever since the Calamity making it too hazardous for their party to linger safely. They'd long since quit the entrance of the Crystal Tower and the campsite in favor of the Ironworks warehouses in Mor Dhona proper. The appearance of Cid's old rival, however, had clearly rattled him beyond any hope of further discussion. Ignoring Jessie's admonition, he continued to pace to and fro, running his fingers restlessly through his hair. 

"Damn it, he's up to _something_. There's no way he just so happened to be there while we were removing the wards on the Tower, it's too blasted convenient."

Aurelia Laskaris stared into her coffee mug, unable to bring herself to take another sip. Truthfully, she didn't blame Cid for his agitation. Nero tol Scaeva had been the man's greatest rival for years, even going so far as to join the imperial army to further his ambitions. He had confronted them at the Praetorium during their coordinated attack on the XIVth Legion, and they'd not seen hide nor hair of him since the structure's collapse. By anyone's best estimate in the aftermath of Operation Archon, he had either died along with his fellow tribunii or he'd managed to escape and flee north to Ala Mhigo.

Having him show up as casually as though they'd just seen him last week was... disconcerting, to say the least. 

"If I may, Chief," Wedge ventured, "he can't get in there anyway. Not unless he goes with us. Doesn't he need Unei and Doga to open the doors? And they're back at Saint Coinach's Find with Rammbroes. The tribunus lets a room at that big boarding house down the way, the one that serves newcomers to the Adventurers' Guild while they get on their feet. I really don't think he's going to go in the Tower before he can find some more people willing to go in with him."

After a long moment, the founder of the Garlond Ironworks let out a grudging sigh.

"True enough," he admitted. "Nero's far too self-interested to risk his own hide, always has been. I just wish I knew what game he was playing at. I don't like being on an uneven footing with the bastard, and he's been naught but insufferable since the moment those two set foot in the ruins."

"Actually," Aurelia said, setting down her cup, "I agree with you. Even if he can't get in on his own, it might not be the worst idea in the world for someone to keep an eye on him just to make sure he doesn't try anything."

"I couldn't agree more, but we don't have anyone to spare."

"Of course you do," she retorted lightly. "You have me."

Cid blinked, then shook his head. "Out of the question. You're the most able champion these people have right now. I'm not going to ask you to risk yourself -- or waste your time -- making sure Nero doesn't throw a wrench in things."

"What would I be doing otherwise, Cid? Babysitting Syndicate politicians? Punching more eikons at Minfilia's behest?" She couldn't keep the irritation out of her voice, not quite, and her vehemence made them all look at her in surprise. She bit her lip, then tried to offer a smile and a shrug. "The point is, it's not as though I've anything momentous to do just now. If he _is_  planning to sabotage the expedition, then who better to ensure it doesn't happen?"

 

==

 

And that was how she found herself standing in front of this nondescript door on the third floor of this boarding house, waiting for someone to answer her knock. She really didn't want to subject herself to Nero's ego or his thinly veiled insults, but she could hardly go back to Cid empty-handed.

It took three knocks and a good five minutes before Nero tol Scaeva answered the door. He had removed his ridiculous-looking coat, and now wore only black trousers and a linen dalmatica with the sleeves rolled up to his elbow in a way that indicated she'd interrupted some kind of work he was doing. His expression when he saw her was initially one of surprise, then of annoyed boredom.

"And what might I have done to warrant the eikon-slayer darkening my threshold?" he drawled. "Rumor that I kidnapped a kitten for some nefarious experiment, perhaps?"

"Stop being dramatic and let me in. I'm here to talk to you." Aurelia shouldered her way through the door before he could stop her, then leaned against it to push it shut. "What are you doing, Nero?"

"At the moment? Having tea and working on a new pro--"

"You know bloody well that's not what I meant. What's your game? Why are you poking around the Crystal Tower?"

Nero pushed aside a nearby stool and leaned against a worn desk, his arms crossed. "The same reason as you are, I imagine. Discovery. History." His full lips curved in a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Glory. The usual."

"And what in Hydaelyn's name makes you think that anyone is going to trust you or anything you say about this Tower, hm?" She took a step closer, her arms folded and blue eyes narrowed. "I'm not as naive as Rammbroes or G'raha Tia and neither is Cid. Don't think any of us have forgotten your part in what happened at the Waking Sands."

"That was an act of war, as well you know. If you expect me to grovel at your feet and beg the Scions' forgiveness for a military action, you are sorely mistaken."

"Naturally not," she said sweetly. "That would require you to have something approaching a moral compass, and goodness knows we can't have that."

"A fine sentiment coming from a woman who has engaged in casual slaughter on countless occasions, wouldn't you say? My motivations are far from noble, but I labor beneath no delusions as to what they are. You, on the other hand, are nothing more than a wind-up _automaton_  they send out at the slightest inconvenience. Go here, fetch this, kill that. I daresay I'd be positively gobsmacked to discover you have any aspirations of your own."

Aurelia paled at the verbal assault---he had no way of knowing how thoroughly they struck home, but she felt a flood of fury and hurt nonetheless.

_Why did I even bother coming here?_

"At any rate," she said stiffly, with as much dignity as she could muster, "I'll be watching you. Closely. If you try anything at all, you'll have an arrow with your name on it. Now, if you'll excuse me, this conversation is over."

She pivoted on one heel, turned to stalk out of the room. Or that was what she would have done, had the former tribunus not caught Aurelia by her wrist and dragged her back towards him until her body was pressed flush against his. She immediately braced her hands against his broad chest and pushed, but Nero did not give an ilm. "The hells it is."

"Take your hands off me!"

"So, this is the strength that Gaius van Baelsar coveted? More's the pity, to see it wed to the whims of a girl who has proven herself all too happy to be a tool so long as her wielders reassure her that it's 'for the good of Eorzea'." His face was inches from hers, jaw tight, mouth no longer smiling. The urbane facade had been completely dropped. "Do you truly think anything has changed, simply because you killed a man and these _savages_  now feel entitled to your protection at the slightest sign of hardship?"

She brought her knee up towards the juncture of his legs in a savage strike intended to disable him, but he must have expected it for his open palm blocked the trajectory of her leg, easily deflecting the attempt. He tangled a hand in her hair and tugged roughly downwards, forcing her head back, exposing the column of her throat.

"You've done naught save trade one gilded cage for another," he murmured in her ear. The soft warmth of Nero's breath prickled at the small hairs where the base of her skull met her earlobes. To her horrified chagrin she felt something in her belly clench at the sensation, a feeling that was not at all unpleasant. " 'Twould almost be impressive, your talent for allowing others to use you so efficiently---were it not so _disappointing_."

"Don't you dare talk about them that way. They're not--"

"Not your friends? Yes, I believe that's what I'm trying to tell you. Do _attempt_  to keep up. I know it must be difficult."

Nero tol Scaeva might be a selfish, amoral jackass whom she hated with a passion, but he wasn't wrong. How many times in the last week alone had she caught herself in the midst of an annoyed observation that not a single person had thought to ask her what _her_  plans might be, or even thank her for her aid? She certainly didn't mind lending a hand where it was needed, but almost to a man the Scions took it for granted that she'd be conveniently available to smack the first primal that came along, or force people to play nice with each other when that wasn't even supposed to be her job.

But the last thing she wanted was to speak ill of the others. Aurelia twisted against his grasp despite the discomfort, refusing to look at him as she swallowed back an angry retort. She certainly wasn't going to say anything in front of _him_ , and if that was what he expected he'd be waiting a very long time. The other Scions had their concerns and struggles, too.

Sometimes they could get a bit demanding, but it didn't mean they weren't--weren't--

"I hate you."

"The feeling is quite mutual, I assure you," he breathed, before covering her mouth with his own. 

It was no gentle show of affection, this kiss. It was angry, punishing, and it belied any notion that this man harbored any tender feelings at all for the woman who had singlehandedly ruined his personal aspirations. She struggled against him, lips finally parting as she tried to come up for air. Nero pressed his advantage immediately; his tongue slid across her teeth even as he forced her towards the nearby wall until she was pinned against it by his weight. Try as she might, she could not leverage herself enough to escape his grasp. Only after she had yielded did he finally relent, and only for his lips to graze her earlobe before nipping delicately at the shell with his teeth.

"If you hate me so bloody much," she managed, "then why all *this*?"

"Because," Nero growled, his voice a velvet rumble against the curve of her throat, "I find myself strangely uncertain as to whether I prefer to kill you outright, or simply bend you over one of Garlond's workbenches until you can't walk straight for a sennight."

She couldn't help a soft, derisive scoff; the tribunus had not lost his sense of humor, at least. It was quickly stifled when she realized he wasn't laughing. His cheeks were lightly flushed and his lips swollen and stained a light coral from their kiss. But it was the eyes that told her, really, the bright burn of lust in them that turned the icy pale blue to smouldering blue-gray coals. For maybe the first time since they'd ever spoken, he was being as honest with her as someone like him really could be: he despised her as much as she despised him, but he also wanted her.

"Well," she heard herself say with a short laugh, "we already know that you weren't able to manage the former, so suffice to say I sincerely doubt you can--"

"Consider your challenge _accepted_."

Nero's mouth found hers again with a fierce, guttural growl, his hands already unbuttoning the short pants she wore beneath her tunic for mobility's sake, sliding beneath her smallclothes for better access to what lay beneath. Aurelia let out a strangled, high-pitched whine as those deft fingertips slipped between her legs to explore her as thoroughly as if she were one of his complex pieces of magiteknical machinery. Her back arched, hands gathering folds of his tunic in their tightening grasp, and that was how she realized he _really_  hadn't been lying--she could feel the heat of his arousal grinding against her with each roll of her hips.

She tugged his shirt free of his waistband and dropped her hands to his belt, the metal buckle making a soft clinking noise as she tugged at it and pulled it through the loops of his trousers. There was a wiry patch of hair just below his navel that grazed her knuckles as she worked the first button. Nero startled at that featherlight touch, the flat plane of his abdomen quivering briefly before he let out a muffled groan between clenched teeth and caught her wrist.

Aurelia protested briefly before she realized he was working at the buttons himself. His movements were abrupt and impatient--and betrayed his desperation, she saw, for he had loosened his own smalls just enough to free his erection. The expression on his face as he yanked her bottoms down past her knees was one of intense, feverish focus.

Something much wider and warmer than his fingers slid between her legs. Anticipation made her kick her smalls and short pants aside to free one of her feet. Without his prompting, she lifted one leg to twine it about his waist, then the other, before belatedly realizing her smalls had caught on the heel of one of her boots. 

Hells with it, she'd fix it later.

"Nero-" She gasped aloud, the sound ending in a strangled cry of surprise at the sheer force of his entry: hard and punishing, shades of their earlier kiss.

Long fingers dug into her flanks as he lifted her off her feet and shoved her backwards to brace her body and his against the wall for better leverage. Aurelia had just enough time to wrap her arms about his shoulders and dig her heels into his back before he withdrew in an achingly slow motion. The next thrust was as deep and hard as the first, and her cry was muffled by his mouth over hers. He set a quick, powerful rhythm, one that had her writhing against him, hips frantically moving in an attempt to match his pace. The unrelenting sensation of utter fullness combined with the grind of his pelvis against her oversensitive core was too much, and it was only a few minutes before that knot of tension inside her crested, flared, then released.

She tangled her fingers in his hair, the space within her belly clenching tight around him. Vaguely she heard her own name pass his lips, hissed in a desperate rasp against her ear. He thrust slowly once, twice, thrice, then buried his face in the hollow betwixt her neck and shoulder with a soft, raw groan, his hips pressed against hers with bruising force as he spilled inside her.

Moments passed in silence. She could hear the harsh rasp of Nero's breathing, ragged and uneven, sensed the liquid warmth of his seed at the ingress of their joining where it began to trickle downwards from her parted thighs. Her arms were still entwined about him in a tight embrace, the erratic pounding thud of her own heart in her ears drowning out all other sound and her cheek pressed against his temple, nose half buried in his sweat-dampened blond hair.

At last he released his grip, slipping out of her and letting her legs fall from his waist so she could stand on her own. With another exhalation she let her weight carry her down to the floor, then tilted her head against the wall and closed her eyes, basking in afterglow even as it became a quickly fading echo of her earlier pleasure. Were she to be entirely honest with herself, she'd missed this feeling far more than she cared to admit. The sensory impression of his cock still pulsing softly within her for those last few moments before his withdrawal made her realize she couldn't actually remember the last time. How long had it been...?

 _Far too long, clearly, if you were willing to let Nero tol Scaeva of all people scratch your itch_.

Nero, meanwhile, had tucked himself back into his smalls and adjusted his trousers (no small feat, that, given he was half-erect again just from the sight of her, legs spread, his spent seed seeping into the rug), making sure to keep as relaxed a posture and as neutral an expression as possible. The Warrior's eyes cracked open slowly at the sound of rattling metal, and once he was sure he had her attention Nero locked his gaze with hers. He leaned against the wall next to her with crossed arms as nonchalantly as if they'd been discussing the weather.

"Behold, the glorious Warrior of Light, champion of all Eorzea," he intoned with a mirthless laugh. "One wonders what your so-called 'friends' would say, were they to see their savior now."

"Don't flatter yourself," she snarled, but there was no heat in it. He'd struck a chord earlier, hurt her pride, or so it seemed. Good. That meant they were even.

He went in for the kill. "For all that you profess to have turned your back on the Empire, my dear, I mark your _noticeable_ lack of objection to rutting with your enemy in a rent-by-the-night boarding house. If this was your true purpose for interrupting my work tonight, you had only to ask."

Aurelia didn't allow herself to look at him. She reached for her smalls and shorts, savagely yanking them back on, forcing herself not to wince at the mess (bugger it, she'd clean it later, just not now, anything to be shut of him and his casual cruelty), not to react with anything less than the cold contempt he deserved.

"Know then that I used you as surely as you used me," she said coolly, "and you may rest assured this shan't happen again."

She threw the door open hard enough to half-shake it from its hinges and slammed it shut, running her fingers through her hair. It had been a mistake to come here alone, and an even bigger mistake to let him touch her. The son of a bitch had probably planned her seduction down to the last word.  _Should've known better than to think he'd be reasonable, after everything--_

After a long moment she realized she was still staring at the closed door. She gave it a final, savage kick before she stomped across the hallway, down two rickety flights of stairs, and let herself outside into the deepening chill of the Mor Dhona evening. The cold bite of the wind against her cheeks sapped at her resolve, and ilm by ilm the fury that had sustained her faded away. In its wake was left only bone-deep weariness, a lingering resentment, and a vague soiled feeling, as though she'd just spent the night sleeping in a malboro's nest.

Cid's expression when she stalked back through the unlocked door to the Ironworks offices without a word to him or anyone else... well, she knew him well enough to know when he was openly curious, but to her friend's immense credit he didn't remark upon her disheveled appearance or press her for further details. Aurelia was beyond grateful for his silence and the space he granted her. All she wanted was a bath and her bed.

==

Nero tol Scaeva watched that retreating back as it vanished into the fog: tall, slim, straight and proud, just like the first night he had ever laid eyes on her. He still hated her, he told himself, but oh-- the way those dark indigo eyes had smouldered with her fury, just as they had that night in the Praetorium. With the memories of their recently-concluded business matter _,_  that look would be more than enough to get him through a few sleepless nights.

That aside, as unexpectedly pleasant as he'd found their coupling, he had absolutely no intention of touching her again. The most efficient way in his experience to prevent this sort of tryst from becoming a regular occurrence was by preventing any attachments from forming in the first place. Tonight should be more than sufficient to get this ridiculous infatuation with her out of his system, he thought.

He dropped the edge of the curtain, sat down at the desk, returned to his reading, and tried to ignore the scent of Althyk lavender that lingered on his skin.


End file.
